Wolf's Clothing
by ryf
Summary: All is not as it seems. Remus J. Lupin, to be exact. Harry is about to learn about someone in wolf's clothing.


A.N. All right, now I must admit that this idea is not mine, much like the characters and setting in this story. (Note my subtle disclaimer) However, the plot is entirely mine. If you're interested in the possible proof behind this premise, read at the bottom of the page.  And oh, there are very slight spoilers for OotP, about as much as if someone told you the color of the wrapping paper on your birthday present.

            It was summer vacation, and Harry was sitting in his room at the Dursley's house. It was extremely hot, and he felt sorry for Hedwig, covered in feathers and cooped up in her cage. He briefly wondered what tourists must think of this weather, coming to England and getting a tan. Not what an American might expect. 

As Harry's thoughts wandered, he thought back to the instance that led to Harry and his owl being cooped up in the middle of a heat wave. Dudley, what a little berk* he was. Harry had been sitting in the living room, bored as usual, when he had an idea. He had been thinking about the Triwizard Tournament, when he remembered the weighing of the wands. Mr. Ollivandor had talked about the upkeep of a wand, and polishing it, and seeing as Harry had nothing better to do (since the Order was still claiming he was too young to participate), he thought he might have a go at it. He pulled a tissue out of a box, pulled out his wand, and started rubbing. Unfortunately, Harry had no better luck than the first time he tried this, and just as some sparks sprang forth from the wand, who should walk in but the little yob*, Dudley. Of course, the porky boy gave out a shriek of fear, and ran as fast as his wonky* legs could carry him to his mummy. As you can imagine, things did not turn out in the best possible way for Harry. 

So here Harry was, sitting in his stuffy room with his overheated owl, brooding. Last summer, the Order had claimed they would be checking up on him, and though they did, in Harry's opinion, their visits were few and far between. Harry had barely had this thought, when who should appear in his room with a faint 'snap!' but Remus J. Lupin, resident werewolf of the Order of the Phoenix. Needless to say, Harry was chuffed*.

            "Lupin!" he shouted, "thank goodness you're here, it's been ages, the Dursleys-"

But Lupin cut him off.

            "Harry, I'm sure whatever you need to say is very important, but right now, I'd like to move this conversation elsewhere. Dumbledore has decided that if you wish, you may go to the home of the Weasleys now, and Molly has opened her home to you, that is, if you want to go." 

            "Blimey!" said Harry, "of course I want to go! When can we leave?" 

Lupin chuckled. "I didn't doubt that you'd be eager. I've already set out a note for your Aunt and Uncle. To answer your question, we can leave now." So saying, he drew from his pocket a rusty tin can, tapped it with his wand, and whispered "Portus." 

Harry reached forward, and as he made contact with the can, he felt the familiar yanking sensation behind his navel. As they came to a halt, Harry found himself in a tangle of limbs on the floor, while Lupin remained upright. As Harry was trying to sort himself out, he all of a sudden heard a sound that made him think of a snoring pregnant hippo, which seemed to come from beneath him. When this sound came again, he was able to distinguish it as a muffled 'gerroff.' As Harry rolled over, he caught a flash of red hair. 

"Ron!" he shouted, getting to his feet. 

"Hey, Harry. How's it going?" said Ron. 

Lupin cleared his throat. "I truly do hate to interrupt this reunion, but I have something important to discuss with Harry." And seeing the look on Ron's face, he added, "If you want to run downstairs, I believe Molly is making biscuits*. I'm sure she could do with some help." he said, winking. 

Although Harry was sorry to see Ron go, he was curious as to what important thing Lupin had to discuss with him. Harry briefly wondered if it had anything to do with Sirius, and then shook that thought aside before the sadness could well up in him again. Lupin looked uncomfortable for a minute, before saying

"Er… maybe you should sit down, Harry. This might come as a shock." Harry was instantly on the alert. 'Who died this time?' popped into his head, but his instantly pushed it out of his mind scolded himself for thinking it. Remembering what Lupin said, Harry seated himself on Ron's bed, for Ron's bedroom was where the portkey had taken them.

"I guess I should start by saying, I am not Remus Lupin. I am however, the man you have always known by that name."

A.N. Sorry! I know, I know, cliffhangers suck, but I couldn't resist, and also, my fingers got a little tired. This was supposed to be a one- shot, but I guess now it's gonna be a two-shot. lol. Okay, so I was the only one laughing there, but oh well. Oh, by the way thanks for actually reading to the bottom of the page! I love ya! Oh yeah, at the top, I said I would explain the possible proof behind the premise of this story, but as I haven't really gotten in to that part yet, and don't want to spoil it, I'll save that for the end of the second and final chapter. Ack! I have committed the unthinkable! My authors note is bordering on the boring length! (And it's on the wrong side of the border, of course.) This is the second fic I've ever written, and the first was an original fiction called Aery - *whistles* who, me? No officer, I'm not advertising at all. Anyway my point was, I would really like it if you would review, it doesn't take that much time, and if you've ever posted a story, you know how much it means. I know this is a way long author's note, but I have one more thing to say. I see no point in saying 'no flames,' because, is that really going to stop anyone? So I'll accept flames, but the less hurtful, the better. Eep! One more thing: You may have noticed stars by certain words during this chapter, and I think I'd better clear that up for my fellow non-Brits.

Berk – moron.

Yob – hooligan.

Wonky – unstable

Chuffed – pleased

Biscuits – not what you think – they're cookies!

Ciao!


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